


Milady High

by erudessa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudessa/pseuds/erudessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>these indeed seem, <br/>For they are actions that a man might play: <br/>But I have that within which passeth show; <br/>These but the trappings and the suits of woe. - Hamlet Act 1 scene 2</p>
<p>After the Targaryens are back on the Iron Throne and the North is granted its freedom. Gendry watches the marriage of Prince Aegon and Princess Arya.</p>
<p>It seems that no matter how high he climbed, he was Lord Gendry Baratheon now, she would always be milady high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milady High

He watched as the prince wrapped a red and black Targaryen cloak around her shoulders. Then the prince planted a kiss on her lips, even bending to wrap his arms around her waist. The court erupted into applause while Queen Daenerys smiled warmly. It seems that no matter how high he climbed, he was Lord Gendry Baratheon now, she would always be milady high.

They played the happy couple at the feast. They danced, held hands and drank from the same cup. All the while Gendry glowered at Aegon and Arya over the brim of his win cup. Some lady to his left kept trying to get his attention. She made inane comments and batted her eyelashes, even sneaking a hand up his thigh. He swatted the hand away quite quickly. Bloody highborns, now that he has a title and land, they swarm up to him like flies. He has already forgotten the number of women throwing themselves at him. He returned to glowering at the royal couple.

Aegon seemed truly happy and in love with his northern bride. His smile seemed genuine enough as he pressed another drunken kiss on Arya’s hand. Arya accepted the prince’s gestures in a manner almost as ladylike as her sister, even conjuring up a blush or two onto her pale cheeks. But throughout the festivities she had refused to acknowledge him.

He heard the court whisper they were Rhaegar and Lyanna come again but with a happy ending. That wasn’t long after the courtiers turned the song of Lyanna’s kidnapping into a song of forbidden love and tragedy. Considering that Aegon was every inch his father’s son and Arya had Lyanna’s looks, it wasn’t a comforting thought.

He was going to ask a server for more wine, it won’t take long for him to turn into Robert Baratheon, he thought. He let out a bark of laughter, fate is cruel.

A drunk lord yelled, “time for the bedding!”

This was met with a great deal of enthusiastic shouting and wolf whistling. Amidst the bawdy jokes, the people in the hall moved to surround the bride and groom.

“Aren’t you going to bed them?” the woman who had been trying to grope him asked. Persistent, he thought. “I’ve always wanted to see if Prince Aegon looked as good as they say.”

She giggled and left while Gendry gagged.

Some middle-aged lord on his right nudged him, whispering conspiratorially, “You still want the Stark girl, don’t you?”

He tapped his nose knowingly. Gendry spluttered slightly on his wine. The man gave him a feigned look of sympathy.

“Ah, don’t worry, there are worse kept secrets at court. But take my advice, you should be a bit more careful now that she’s married to the prince.” He chuckled.  Gendry scowled but felt blood rise up his neck.

Arya was surrounded by a rowdy group of men as they tore at her dress, yelling lewdly and groping. They’ve already stripped her of her silks and eagerly tugged at her shift. But at that moment, in a gap amongst the throng of people, Arya’s grey eyes bore into his blue one. He could see her desperately fighting the urge to not throw them off.

Something twisted in his chest and he strode over, pushing through to her. There was more shouting when he wrapped his arms around her and carried her bridal style from the hall. He tried to not notice her bared skin. It looked so smooth and pale. Or that her arms crossed across her chest left little to the imagination. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on her as resentment for the prince gnawed at him.

They don’t say a word until Gendry deposited her in the prince’s chambers. Arya turned and muttered a quite thank you, not looking at him. Aegon gave him a pointed look over his shoulder as he poured himself more wine.

He grinded his teeth together and muttered “Good luck, milady, milord.”

And strode out aware that those courtiers outside still twittered drunkenly.

* * *

 

It was several days after the wedding now. It was another tiring day listening to various meetings from discussing water distribution to the size of the royal fleet. Now that he has learnt his letters, he was required to learn the running of his lands as needed by the future Lord of Storm’s End. So he was looking forward to slipping into a hot bath when he entered his chambers. Perhaps the only perk was being to maintain better personal hygiene. But just as he pulled his shirt over his head, someone cleared their throat. He pulled out his sword, fumbling with the scabbard, only to see Arya chuckling darkly and draped across his chair by the window.

He cursed. He had been avoiding Arya entirely after her marriage, only catching glimpses of her around the Red Keep. Only this afternoon she was speaking Braavosi with an envoy from the Iron Bank who, by the look of things, was wrapped around her little finger already. In a gown of blue silk with Loras Tyrell in his Kingsguard armour trailing behind her, she fit seamlessly into court. But now, she had ditched her dress, wearing breeches and a loose fitting tunic and belt and Loras was nowhere in sight.

He stared at her face, raking his eyes over the high cheekbones, straight nose and grey eyes framed by brown tresses, Arya had grown into her looks. Gendry searched for any traces of the girl he knew. Suddenly struck by the desire to see her long dark hair fanned across his pillow, he spat out, “Shouldn’t you be with your prince? And how the seven hells did you get in here?”

Arya shrugged, unfazed by his aggression. “I climbed through the window.”

“Huh.”

A raised eyebrow, flatly she said, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He turned his back to her and threw his sword aside, pretending to search for something. During the war that put Daenerys on the throne, they had resumed their easy camaraderie on some occasions, fighting, joking and sparring. Until he realised that he loved her and out of impulse kissed her. Below the surface was something else though, she had become more distant. He had scared himself then and she slipped out of his grasp.

“You’re wedded and bedded by the Dragon Prince.”

It seemed logically sound to his ears. Arya wasn’t going to be wedded and bedded by someone that she didn’t feel anything for. So obviously, she had to at least like Aegon enough to marry him.

Realisation dawned on her face as Gendry turned to look at her. Arya sprang from her seat and threw her hands up into the air.

“Gods, you’re so stupid.”

Gendry couldn’t help but crack a smile. He slowly turned around to see her pacing back and forth filled with restless energy.

“The North had to become independent. We were never truly part of the Seven Kingdoms.” She stopped before him, looking like she aged twenty years, but still refusing to look at him. “If we called the banners, Daenerys wouldn’t leave the Starks a kingdom to rule. Besides, the realm as seen enough fire and blood.”

She laughed bitterly. He stood awkwardly as silence reigned.

“So, I needed Aegon.”

Another pause. The implication of ‘need’ was clear, it wasn’t in the romantic sense at all. It had been a political choice when she had Aegon following her like some love struck puppy. She married him with the promise that the North as an independent kingdom was still the Iron Throne’s ally.

“It could have been Sansa. She wanted to be queen. She’ll make a much better one than me too, with her eloquence, her grace and her mind for politics.” She gnawed her lip. “But too bad, she was already married to Hardyng.”

Gendry was flabbergasted. This was the first time Arya had truly been candid with him in a long time. It was a choice she made. She had put the needs of the realm before her own happiness. But it didn’t sound like Arya at all. He didn’t allow himself to hope. So he hated when he sounded like a child when he said, “You don’t love the prince?”

Arya faced him, her expression blank. How the hell does she manage that, he thought to himself. There was another pregnant pause as Gendry stared hard at her.

“I do care for the prince,” she answered slowly as if the words felt foreign on her tongue. When he looked close at her face, he could almost see cracks in her mask. It had always been difficult for her to explain her feelings.  

“Right.” He moved to sit on his bed and looked at his hands, slightly crestfallen. He was still just a stupid bastard.

“Gendry.”

He looked up to see Arya crouched before him so that she can peer at his face. Slowly, a smile slowly spread across her face like sunlight washing away the ice of winter.

“You stupid bull! Don’t you see? Aegon will never be my prince, but you will always be my stupid bull headed blacksmith!”

Then she punched his arm, painfully.

“Argh, I’ve said it! I can’t believe you made me say it.”

She made to rise. But Gendry grinned, pulling her back and planting a kiss onto her lips. Maybe she was like her aunt only in looks after all. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
